


a memory more than a dream

by jessethejoyful



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Gen, a possibility of how simon finds out about his parentage, i know it's probably kinda dumb but here we are, it's short but whatever, the idea came to me last night at like 2 am so here we are, this is pure sadfic here y'all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-08-03 09:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16323344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessethejoyful/pseuds/jessethejoyful
Summary: At Penny's urging, Simon returns to the place where he first came into his magic, where a new orphanage has been built in its place - and finds a little more than he bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is short, but it's just a one-shot to get out some ideas I had!

**SIMON**

This was all Penny's idea.

She said it might be good for me to go back to the places I knew as a kid, to see them as an adult and let them fill me up. Find the magic that once existed there.

But I don't have my magic anymore. If I can't feel magic at all, what's the fucking point?

I gave in, like I always do to Penny's ideas. And that's how Baz and I wound up here, at the child's home I blew up when I came into my magic. It was destroyed, the people in it transported, but they've rebuilt on the same bit of land. The new building is nicer than the old one, looks more advanced or something.

Next to me, Baz squeezes my hand. I was surprised when he agreed to come along, because he's not really the touchy-feely sort. In his family, everyone just absorbs their feelings and waits to die instead of dealing with them.

“You know you don't _have_ to do this, Simon,” he says quietly. “No matter what Bunce says. I’ll spell her silent for a few days and we can have some peace.”

I look at him softly. “I think I do have to,” I reply, “but you don't. I know you don't like shit like this, you don't have to stay.” He furrows his brow at me and squeezes my hand again in place of a response, and I'm weak with relief. I don't really want to step in alone, no matter what I say.

The doors chime as we walk in, and I jump. Baz gives me a sympathetic look.

“Hi, can I help you?” chirps a perky blonde woman seated behind a pane of glass. We step over to her, but I can't find my voice, so Baz speaks for me.

“My boyfriend grew up here,” he says in a low voice to the woman. “We were hoping we could just have a wander around. He wants to take in some of his past.”

She looks us over, takes in what must be the melancholy look on my face and the timbre of Baz's voice. “You must've been here for that explosion,” she says gently, no idea that she's talking to the person who _caused_ it. “Just sign your names on the clipboard there and you're welcome to have a look around. A lot of the children are gone right now anyways on an outing.”

Baz signs us both in and then leads me, by the hand like a child, to the next room. I'm trying to absorb the shocking white of the walls, the small messes left behind by some of the kids, the tiny chairs and the toys. My throat is too tight. It all looks familiar and not, because I know that this is a different building - but the feeling is one I know, and it’s shaking something hollow in me. Something painful.

We wander through the different rooms, all empty of people as we poke our heads in. But when we step into one room, I feel - something. A tug, in the bottom of my stomach, drawing me in further. Baz questions me, tries to pull on my hand, but I surge forward. Under the table - there it is. It’s a toy, some ragged looking doll that looks like it might’ve been handmade. It’s old, dirty and discarded underneath a tiny table in the corner of this room. I crouch down beside it and stare hard.

“What is that?” I hear Baz ask as he kneels beside me. He squeezes my bicep. “Simon. What’s the matter with you?”

I ignore him and reach under the table, plucking up the toy - and I’m transported.

Or maybe not. I feel myself fall backwards, hear Baz shout something, but there’s magic swirling all around me. _Magic_. I can feel it, but not like it’s my own - more like it’s enveloping me. Building something around me. My eyes are closed against the impact of the floor, but it doesn’t come.

I open my eyes.

The orphanage is gone. I’m surrounded by a haze, like fog, rolling in around me. Everything else is darkness, except one spot of light in the distance, far ahead of me. I push to my feet and start walking, then jogging, and then I’m running, racing toward the light as it gets bigger. A scene starts to fall into place.

It’s clearly some kind of cottage, a little old-timey looking but furnished comfortably. A kitchen with classic appliances - and a woman, sitting at the table. Her hair is blonde and tumbling down her back and shoulders, full-bodied and shimmering and yellow. I’m looking at her from behind, and I turn around to see only a wall, no sign of where I came from. I look back at the woman, drawn by a sudden need to see her face.

Almost like I willed it, she turns toward me. Her blue eyes, wide and glittering in her face, don’t look at me, but through me, and I know she can’t see me. She’s beautiful. And _pregnant_ , very much so. She’s running her hands over her massive stomach, humming.

“Simon,” she says, turning away again, and my heart shoots into my throat. “Simon Snow. My rosebud boy, I can’t wait to meet you.”

The realization strikes me. “ _Mum_.”

She doesn’t hear me, and she’s humming again, off in her own world. Beside her on the table is the doll I picked up in the home, looking new and clean. Its little black bead eyes look like they’re following me - maybe they are.

There’s a noise of a door opening behind me, but I don’t turn to look. She looks my direction again, and I’m trying desperately to take her all in. A smile lights up her face, and it looks so much like mine that it hurts.

“Lucy,” rumbles a voice behind me, and it takes me a second to place it, because I’ve just learned the name of my mother, and there’s an explosion in my chest. “What are you humming?” I whip around - and the Mage is standing there, looking like himself and also not at all like him. He’s young, with tan skin and something easier in his eyes. Seeing him brings a rush of things I don’t know how to cope with, and I fall to the ground.

He walks right through me like I’m a ghost.

“I think it’s Bohemian Rhapsody,” my mother says pleasantly. I turn to watch them from my knees, as she reaches out and takes the Mage’s hand. “But with my own special twist.”

“I see,” the Mage laughs, the happiest I’ve ever heard him. “How’s our boy doing today?” His words are like another punch to my gut. _Our_ boy, he said. That means the Mage is -

“He’s hungry,” Lucy says, and this also makes the Mage laugh. “Strong. He’ll be here soon, Davy.” The Mage opens his mouth to reply, but the words are warbled and disappear. The scene starts to break up in front of me, the colors dissolving and fading into the darkness encroaching from all sides. I try to reach out, screaming my mother’s name, trying to move forward, but reality crashes in.

I’m back in the home, staring at the ceiling. Baz is leaning over me, pale face drawn in concern, fanning me for some reason. The ratty doll is clutched to my chest.

“Simon!” he says. “Are you alright?” Then, “You’re crying, love. What just fucking happened?” I start to sit up, and his hands grab my arms to help me.

“Why are you fanning me…?” I ask, disoriented. I shove at the tears that are streaming down my cheeks and dripping from my chin.

He stares at me incredulously. “I thought you fainted from being overheated or something, you’re always like a furnace.” He touches my face. “But you’re cold.”

I blink at him, trying to figure out how to express what I just saw, but I can’t find the words. I just tug at Baz and pull him to me, burying my face in his neck and sobbing with such force that I can barely breathe.

To his credit, he takes it in stride. He’s never been great at hugs, we’re both awful at it, but he rubs his hands up and down my back and makes small hushing noises, trying to reassure me.

When I manage to get a breath again, he sits back, staring at me. “Can you tell me what happened now? You’re scaring me a bit, love.”

“I - I don’t even know where to start.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey look an addition i didn't realize i was gonna write! lmao

**BAZ**

Instead of staying there, knelt on the floor of the children’s home, I pull Simon up with me and fold his arm over mine. He’s still crying. Not in active sobs, like before, but just a flow of tears, like he can’t get them to stop. I haven’t seen him like this in a long time.

We pass the blonde woman again on the way out. She looks at us with concern but doesn’t say anything, and I give her a nod as we go.

“Come on, love,” I murmur to Simon, rubbing his arm and opening the car door for him when we reach it. “We’ll go back to your apartment, come on.”

He sits silently in the front seat, staring out the window with tears streaming down his empty face. He won’t let go of my hand, and I don’t mind; I’m good at driving one-handed, but he’s worrying me. I can’t imagine what he saw that would do this to him.

In his other hand, he’s still clutching that toy. He hasn’t put it down once.

Bunce is out when we get to their apartment, so Simon and I head to his room. I pull him down on his unmade bed beside me and don’t say anything, just rub my hand across his until he starts breathing regularly. It takes a while, but he finally calms down, his face resting in the crook of my neck.

“I saw… my parents,” he says thickly, somewhat muffled by the neck of my coat. “It was a vision, or a memory, or… something. I don’t know how to explain it.” He sits up, staring down at the toy. “This little toy was mine, something my mum made for me.”

I gape at him for a moment, my hand stopping in its movement. “You saw your _parents_? You know who they are?”

This is the wrong thing to say, apparently, because Simon’s body starts to shake, the fists clenching the toy vibrating in his lap. “I didn’t recognize my mum, I don’t know - who she is. But my dad -” He looks like he’s going to be ill, his eyes wide with what reads like fear, but I don’t know what to do with that.

“Did you recognize him?” I ask gently, trying to coax him to get it out.

“It was the Mage.”

He says it so quietly I almost think I misheard him, but I know I didn’t. The _Mage_ \- who adopted him, named Simon his heir - was his real father the whole time? Are you fucking kidding me? It sounds like some kind of sick joke, but neither of us are laughing.

“Simon -”

“He _lied_ to me. My entire life! He let me believe that I was an orphan, abandoned in some home, when he was there the whole fucking time?” His voice is like thunder now, anger pouring out of him. “And what about my mum? Did he kill her, like he killed Ebb? Or sacrifice her, for his _greater good_ , like your mum? How much blood does he have on his hands?”

His knuckles are white, practically tearing apart the toy. There are tears in my eyes now too, but I don’t know if it’s just from seeing him so distressed or something else. I can feel his rage like it’s my own.

“Maybe we can find out,” I whisper, covering his hands with mine. “We’ll talk to Headmistress Bunce, see about starting an investigation with the Coven -”

“No!” he shouts, startling away from me. “No, I don’t want _anyone_ to know he’s my father. I _never_ want anyone else to know, besides you and me.” He starts sobbing again, his face crumbling. “That fucking monster -”   
“Alright, Simon, okay,” I say placatingly, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him to my chest. He buries his face there and howls, choking on his own sobs and grabbing at my jacket like I’m the only thing anchoring him to the earth. Maybe I am. “We won’t do a damn thing. Alright? No one has to know.”

“No one has to know what?” Bunce says suddenly, standing in the doorway and staring at us with wide eyes. “What in the name of Stevie Nicks - what happened?!” She comes in the room before I can tell her to fuck off, dropping down beside Simon and putting a hand on his back. He doesn’t sit up, and Bunce is staring at me hard over the top of his curly head.

I fix her with a glare, which she meets with equal intensity. “Nothing,” I grind out. “How about you go make us all some tea, Bunce?” She narrows her eyes at me, and I gesture at her with my head. Simon might be willing to tell her about it, once he’s calmed down, but with the state he’s in right now I know it’s better for her to step out for a moment and let him compose himself.

“Okay...” she says heavily, pushing up and giving me another look over her shoulder before closing the door behind her.

When he’s finally cried himself out again, he sits up, gasping, and peers at me through bleary, red eyes. “Penny - where’d she go?”

“I asked her to go make us some tea.” He nods, shoving the heels of his hands into his eyes - he finally dropped that toy, it’s beside us on the sheets - and tries to breathe deep. “Do you want to go talk to her?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters, sounding so forlorn that I have to stop myself from pulling him back in to my chest. “She - she deserves to know the truth. We don’t keep secrets.”

“That’s true,” I say mildly, reaching up and pushing his hair off his forehead. “Do you want me to tell her?” Simon looks at me, relief flashing across his features, that I can take that job away from him. I squeeze his hands. “Stay here, love. Maybe go splash some water on your face or something, you look a right mess.”

He snorts quietly at this, rubbing at his cheek again. “Thanks.” I stand up and lean over, and press a kiss to the top of his head before stepping out.

Bunce is in the kitchen, pouring tea into three mismatched mugs. She looks up as I come in.

“Baz,” she says, “what the absolute fuck happened? Is this to do with the orphanage?”

“Hell of a guess, Bunce,” I say drily, taking the mug she holds out to me and sitting at their little dingy table. She sits down across from me. “I’d give you shit about this being your fault - but honestly, I think it’s all for the best. You were right about him getting answers from visiting it, but he got far more than any of us bargained for.”

“Are you going to keep being vague, or actually tell me what happened?”

I sigh at her. “He found out who his parents are, with some toy that apparently got left behind that his mum had made him. He saw some vision of the two of them. He said he didn’t recognize his mum - but his father was the Mage.” Bunce’s eyes widen, her mug clinking down onto the table.

“The _Mage_?” she breathes, her mouth hanging open. “What the actual fuck? Are you serious?”

“As funny as it might be to pull your wand about this one - yes, I’m serious.” She’s staring into her tea like it might show her some kind of answer, some clue as to why this bullshit had to fall on Simon yet again.

“He doesn't want anyone to know, does he?” she asks, referring to the comment she’d walked in on earlier. “That’s what he meant. He doesn’t want anyone to know that the Mage is his father.”

I nod. “Can you blame him?”

“Fuck, no - poor Simon.” That’s a bit of an understatement, but I don’t say so. I just sip my tea and watch the cogs churning in Bunce’s mind.

“What are you thinking about, Penelope?” I ask her, tilting my head. “I know that face you’re making and I don’t like it one bit.”

She sucks on her lip for a moment before blowing out a breath. “It’s just - I’m thinking about a conversation I had with Mum and Agatha a while ago. About a girlfriend the Mage had when they were all in school, Lucy. She was apparently Mum’s best friend.”

I grunt noncommittally. “I don’t know if Simon got his mum’s name. We can ask him, I suppose, once he’s calmed down some.”

“Mum said she left for America after they broke up,” Bunce says, mostly to herself, it seems like. “I wonder if she actually did leave.”


	3. Chapter 3

**PENELOPE**

Simon spends the rest of the evening not saying a lot. Neither Baz nor I are willing to press him, but I know we both hate seeing him like this. There’s been less and less of it recently, these long spells of silence and tears, as he’s been getting better. Removing himself, at least a little bit, from the trauma of everything that happened.

Now it’s like all that work has disappeared.

I’m trying to cast my mind back to that conversation Agatha and I had with Mum. But I was so focused on our investigation that I paid it little mind, and I’m kicking myself for it now.

Maybe Agatha has some other insights. But I’m hesitant to text her, because Simon is wanting to keep this all so quiet. We did get his mother’s name from him, though - when he muttered Lucy, my heart skipped in my chest. I didn’t want to upset him more, so I didn’t say anything. Not yet.

When Simon goes to bed early, I ask Baz to wait for a moment before he follows him in. He’s wearing a pair of Simon’s joggers and his own v-neck; this is the closest anyone ever sees to Baz being dressed down.

“Look - I know Simon is trying to keep this all under wraps. I won’t tell my mum, or anyone, until he’s ready. But I really think if I ask Agatha -”

Baz’s voice cuts across mine. “ _No_. Do not bring Wellbelove into this, not until Simon gives us the go ahead.” He glares at me, his thick, dark brows pushing downward on his droopy eyes. “We need to respect his wishes on this.”

I hate that he’s right. I always hate when he’s right.

He goes on to Simon’s room, closing the door quietly behind him. I sit on the sofa by myself for a bit and think.

Damn the Mage. _Davy_. That rotten bastard ruined Simon’s entire life, I don’t know where he thought he got off with that. From the little that Simon’s said, and what I remember from talking to Mum - it sounds like maybe his mum was alright, at least. Caught up in the Mage’s bullshit, maybe, but powerful and kind.

I heave out a sigh and turn on my phone screen. I don’t care what Baz says. While Simon grieves, I’m going to get to the bottom of this for him, or at least start digging. He deserves to know the truth of it all.

 

_Agatha! It’s really kind of urgent - are you busy? Could we Skype for a minute? I really need to ask you a few questions._

 

I send the text and wait, rapidly tapping my foot against the base of the sofa. There was a while where Agatha ignored everything I sent her, but I was so persistent in trying to get her to talk to me that she finally gave up. This time, luckily, it doesn’t take long for her to reply.

 

_I have class in an hour, but I can talk for a bit. Go ahead and call me._

 

She answers on the second ring, and the video feed fills my screen. She looks fantastic, her skin dark from the California sun, her hair lighter. I think she’s sitting on her balcony, and I can hear the rush of the ocean in the distance.

“Hello, Penelope,” Agatha says quietly, actually smiling. I hold up my phone and grin at the camera, just happy to see her for a second.

“Agatha! What time is it there, anyways? I don’t mean to pester you before class.”

She shakes her blonde head. “You’re not pestering me. Besides, you said it was urgent. What’s going on? Is Si alright?” I don’t know if she and Simon have actually spoken, but she always asks after him through me, and after Baz as well.

I fill her in quickly on Simon’s visit to the orphanage, and what happened while he was there, the vision he saw. Her expression grows awed as she listens. “He told us that the Mage addressed his mother as _Lucy_ ,” I finish, and her jaw drops open. “I think she must be Mum’s friend, the one she told us about who was dating the Mage while they were at Watford. Did she tell you anything else about her after I left?”

“Not much, no,” Agatha breathes, looking like she’s been punched in the stomach. “But I - I asked Mum and Helen about her. I - her last name was Salisbury.” She swallows. “If she really is Simon’s mum - Penelope, he has a grandmother who’s still alive. Lady Salisbury, she plays Black Maria with my mum at the club.”

All this information blows me away. “You _know_ his grandmother?”

She nods. “I’ve known her for years. She tells bawdy jokes and always makes sure everyone eats more cake. Mum said that the only time Lady Salisbury mentioned Lucy after she disappeared, she was so distraught, saying her daughter had run away from magic and that she was worried there might be - might be a _child_ involved. My mum mentioned her son too, something about him being a dud - so Simon would also have an _uncle_. If Lucy Salisbury really is his mum.”

 

**AGATHA**

Penelope and I hang up after a few more minutes, and my mind races.

“You can’t tell anyone,” she said to me fervently before going. “Simon doesn’t want anyone to know, not even you, yet, but I knew you might have some answers. And I was right, but they can’t know you know yet. Okay?”

“You’re the only person I talk to from home anymore, Penny,” I promised her, but the entire situation was making me reconsider that. I wanted to talk to Simon, to be there for him while he went through all this shit, because no one deserved the kind of things the Mage had done to him.

It makes me so angry to think about it, that the Mage had been Simon’s true blood father all along, but hidden it from him. Hidden the identity of his mother, knowing that Simon had other family out there he could have gone to, instead of being tossed into care homes every summer.

I almost wish the Mage hadn’t died, so that he could face some punishment for the things he’d done.

And what about Lucy Salisbury? Poor Lucy Salisbury, whom I thought had escaped everything. Escaped all the nonsense, and the Mage, ran to California to raise a child away from everything and start a new life, when it turned out to be Simon all along.

Is she dead? I suppose she must be, if she’s never come for Simon, to find him.

I look over at my Lucy, who’s curled up on the rug just inside the glass sliding door separating my balcony from my flat. It seems almost predictable, that this woman whom I’d come to admire and envy, should end up being Simon’s mother. After everything.

But I like the idea of it. That his mother should have been strong, and powerful, and beautiful. I like it for him, along with the knowledge that he suddenly has a whole family he doesn’t know about, but would soon, if Penelope has any say in the matter.

I know Penny and Baz will help Simon get to the answers. I know they’ll take him to his family, when he’s ready for it. But the fact that I won’t be there to help rankles at me more than I expected it would.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penelope reaches out to Headmistress Bunce to ask for help on finding the truth out about Simon's mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey look a totally random update!!

**BAZ**

It takes a few days for Simon to rise from the funk he’s fallen into. He spends a lot of time in his bed, and I sit with him, coaxing him to eat, and to drink the copious amounts of tea Bunce keeps making for him because she doesn’t know what else to do.

A week after our visit to the orphanage, Penelope and I are sitting together in their small kitchen in silence when Simon wanders in. It’s the first time he’s gotten up unprompted, and both of us are staring at him.

“You guys are freaking me out,” he grumbles, going to the fridge and emerging with a cup of yoghurt. “I feel like a fish in a bowl. I’m fine.”

I raise my eyebrows, still watching him. “Fine? You’ve been in bed for a week.”

He rolls his eyes as he sits at the table with us. “Well, I’m fine _now_. I’m up, aren’t I?” It’s good that he’s finally up on his own, but he still looks a fright. His hair is greasy and matted, and his skin looks pallid, like it’s just hanging from his bones. There’s no light in his eyes, but there’s a quirk to his lips that makes me think he might actually be mending.

I lean forward and grab at a hank of his hair, pulling on it. “Go take a shower, then. Your hair is disgusting.” Penelope looks a warning at me, but I know if we keep tiptoeing around him it’s only going to make things worse in the long run. At least me griping at him is something he’s used to, and can latch on to. I can tell I’m right by the shift in his face, snorting as he pulls away from my hand.

“Don’t feel the need to be too gentle, Baz,” he says sarcastically, standing again. “You’re gonna be here a bit?” I nod, and he disappears again, presumably to do as I told him.

Bunce doesn’t say anything until we hear the water turn on. “I talked to Agatha.” Annoyance rises in me and I open my mouth to snap at her, but she cuts me off. “Hear me out! I talked to her about Lucy. I know you told me not to, but I knew she’d have more information, and I was _right_ . I really think this Lucy is Simon’s mum - and if I’m right, then Simon has family out there, Baz. A grandmother and an uncle, at least.” She’s leaning across the table at me, looking determined. Another mystery for her to solve. “Agatha knows his grandmother even, she plays Black Maria with Agatha’s mum, apparently. Lady _Salisbury_.”

This surprises me. I know Lady Salisbury as well, have met her before, but mostly in passing. Our families certainly don’t move in the same circles, but I’ve seen her enough at the club. She’s a broad, sturdy old bird, with a booming laugh and bright, intelligent eyes. It would make sense, her being Simon’s grandmother.

But I’m firm as I say, “We can’t do anything until Simon says he wants to. I know you’re obsessed with finding answers, Bunce, but we have to respect Simon on this. I can’t believe _I’m_ the one who has to remind you of that.”

“I know! I won’t do anything until he says so, I swear, but we need to talk to him about it. Think about it, Baz.” She sits back in her seat, stirring her tea. “He’s always been obsessed with family, the families that you and I and Agatha have. Imagine how he’d feel to finally have his own.”

We both fall silent, thinking our own thoughts until we hear the water shut off again down the hall. I push up from the table and go to Simon’s room, throwing open the blinds and starting to strip down his bed. He comes in and breathes out a laugh. “You’re as much of a busybody as Pen sometimes, Baz. Move, I’ll do it.”

“I’ll try not to be insulted,” I say drily, dropping into the armchair in the corner of the room. Simon finishes stripping the sheets, even takes them out of the room and to the wash. I hear him slam the lid shut and he comes back inside, closing the door softly behind him. The room is bright from the rare sun outside, and Simon seems happier to be in the light.

“You’ve got a scary face on,” he says to me mildly, crossing the room to me and sitting at my feet. He does this sometimes, choosing to sit on the floor when there are plenty of places to sit in a room. “I’m almost nervous to ask what it means.”

I peer down at him, leaning forward with my elbows resting on my knees. He looks much better, the color returned to his skin and his golden hair curling as it dries. “Do you want to know what it means?”

Simon sighs, reaching up to take one of my hands. “I guess so. I can tell you and Penelope are practically buzzing with _something_ , so we might as well get it over with.”

“I don’t want to put you back into a panic, Simon. We can wait until you’re really feeling better, take some time to recover -”

He pulls on my hand. “Baz, come on. If it’s something about - about my parents, I want to know. I’m not going to fall apart again.” He tilts his head at me, his curls dropping into his eyes. “Did you guys find something out?”

“Not me,” I say slowly, “but Penelope did, maybe. She told me about someone her mum had mentioned once, a friend from her Watford days named Lucy.” I say the name and I see his eyes widen, his pupils narrowing. I can hear the change in his heartbeat, smell the blood that’s racing now through his veins. “She might have a lead on something. There’s a possibility you have extended family here, love, a grandmother, and an uncle.”

I can tell it takes a few moments for the information to sink in. His mouth drops open, and he lets go of my hand to shove both of his back through his hair, pulling on it. I wait for the smoke to start pouring out of his ears, but he just says meekly, “A family. My mother’s family?”

“Maybe,” I say heavily, terrified now of getting his hopes up and it being incorrect. “We aren’t sure, we wanted to wait until you were feeling better to start digging. To see if you even _want_ to dig into it. Bunce could still be wrong, it’s happened before.”

“What else did she say?”

I rub my face. “Her mum apparently had a friend in school whose name was Lucy Salisbury, and was dating the Mage.” He winces at the word, but I press on. “There was apparently a scandal involving her disappearance, that she ran from magic and there might have been a baby involved.” I suck on my teeth for a moment. “We thought that baby could have been you.” He doesn’t say anything for a long while, just staring at his lap, and I nudge him. “Say something, you’re scaring me.”

“I-I just don’t know,” he says glumly, looking up at me again. He’s not crying, which I take as a good sign. “If Lucy - Salisbury, did you say? - If Lucy Salisbury really is my mum, and she ran from magic… will my grandmother even want to meet me? Would she hate me, because of the scandal?”

I shrug, because I don’t know what else to do. “She’s not a bad woman. I have a feeling - if we’re right about this, I bet she’d be glad to meet you.”

“You _know_ her?”

“She goes to the club. I see her at charity do’s and things, but our families don’t really get on.”

Simon grunts. “Of course they don’t.” He falls quiet again, and a few minutes pass before he says, “Alright. Let’s do it.”

 

**PENELOPE**

I spearhead the charge of looking for answers. Simon gives me the go-ahead to talk Mum again, as well as Agatha. He still wants to keep the truth of his father quiet, but he doesn’t mind me telling Mum if it’ll help us get to his family.

“I’m sorry I talked to Agatha without asking you,” I say to Simon after Baz leaves for the night. “I just wanted to help, and I figured you’d want to find the truth as much as I did.”

He smiles at me, and it’s such a relief to see after a week of tears and listlessness that I feel my shoulders sag. “It’s okay, Penny. I know you’re helping, and I do trust Agatha. I’m actually glad you talked to her, because it did help get us to this point.” I called Mum earlier, and the three of us are going to go meet her in the town near Watford to talk about everything. I told her on the phone I couldn’t explain exactly what was going on, but that we’d tell her tomorrow.

“What’s this about, Penelope?” she’d asked, her voice suspicious over the line. “Another one of yours and Simon’s mysteries?”

“Something like that,” I said, “but trust me, Mum. Once we explain it to you, you’re going to be just as invested in finding out the answers as we are.”

Baz is over early the next morning, and we pile into his sports car for the long drive to Watford. Simon sits in the front, his and Baz’s hands clasped between the seats.

The town near Watford is small but nice, a little countryside village with more houses than businesses, but an excellent curry restaurant. Mum is waiting for us out front when we get there, wrapped in a jacket with a scarf up to her nose. I realize it’s been nearly two months since I’ve seen her, and I throw my arms around her in a hug, while the boys greet her with handshakes. Simon always gets a little meek around her, but Mum has warmed up to him much more since he isn’t in danger of blowing up all the time.

“I don’t have too long for lunch,” she says apologetically as we’re seated inside. “There’s a faculty meeting I need to be back for at two.”

I glance at Baz, but he nods for me to go ahead, and I look back at Mum. “We’ll get right to the point then. Do you remember when Agatha and I were making gingerbread, and you told us about your friend from Watford, Lucy Salisbury? That she was dating the Mage?”

“I think I remember…” Mum says slowly, looking confused. “Why do you ask?”

“We think… we think she might be Simon’s mum. And the Mage is his father.”

Mum looks between the three of us, her eyes widening as they fall on Simon. “How - the _Mage_?” She looks back at me, flabbergasted. “How?”

Simon speaks this time. “Mrs. Bunce - it’s kind of a long story.” He rubs his neck nervously. “I visited the orphanage where I grew up, where I came into my magic, and I found a toy there that I think my mum made for me. It showed me a vision of the Mage and my mum in a cottage together while she was pregnant with me. He called her Lucy.”

“A cottage…” Mum is staring at Simon like she’s never seen him before. “Lucy mentioned…” She swallows hard. “Martin and I met them once, in London. After we’d all left school. She - Lucy mentioned a cottage that she and Davy were living in.”

“You wouldn’t have that picture on you, would you, Mum?” I ask pointedly. I can feel my heart pounding, we’re so close to the truth, I can _feel_ it.

“No, I couldn’t find it again after I showed you it.” I frown at this.

“Any other pictures? Maybe something Simon could look at to tell if the woman he saw in the vision is the same Lucy?” She’s still staring at Simon like he’s grown another head.

“I - my memory book, it’s back at the school. We have class pictures -”

“Can you summon it?” Baz leans toward Mum, his nostrils flaring, while beside him, Simon just looks stunned. “Could you summon it here?”

We have to pause as the waiter comes over to take our orders, looking mildly concerned at the intense expressions Baz and I are wearing. It reminds us that we’re in public, in a Normal area, and I make myself take a deep breath.

“She can’t just whip out her wand in the middle of this restaurant, Baz,” I hiss at him. I can feel my throat tightening, but I speak anyways. “We’ll come back to the school with you then, Mum. If you don’t mind.”

“Penny, no,” Simon says, his concerned face flashing my way. “You don’t have to go back, Baz and I can go and get it ourselves.”

I’m already shaking my head. “I can’t imagine a better time for me to get over my trauma,” I say jokingly, trying to convince myself that it won’t kill me to go back to Watford. “We grew up there. It’ll be fine.”


End file.
